


the dead can't exactly testify

by acesam



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Not Likely, Will I ever stop writing depressing shit for this show?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1996680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acesam/pseuds/acesam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She keeps a diary, during the Rising. Well, it isn't really a diary so much as it is a random assortment of questions she wants to tell Kieren but can't, things that would make her feel better, but don't.<br/>Anyway. Just writing about it helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the dead can't exactly testify

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is ... something else.  
> Elena, stop listening to Keaton Henson songs, it gets you in a mood!  
> I guess this is like some sort of sequel for my other fic.

Jem and Kieren Walker were always the perfect unit, always attached at the hip.

 

She used to ask him so many questions. Why is this the way it is, why is my hair colour different than yours, why does the sun shine, why do I have to go to school, why are mum and dad looking at you like that, what kind of pills are that, what do you need them for, why is mum so stressed, why does dad keep acting like nothing's wrong. (God, she must've been an annoying little shit.)

 

He never complained, not once, answered every nagging question as best as he could, immature as they might have been. He used to spend hours on the internet, searching for things she asked him. Everytime he found the suitable answer it was like the end of a game they'd been playing, like they could start again and everything would just stop and rewind.

 

No matter how mad she is at him now, she'll always be greatful for that.

 

//

 

She keeps a diary, during the Rising. Well, it isn't really a diary so much as it is a random assortment of questions she wants to tell Kieren but can't, things that would make her feel better, but don't.

 

Anyway. Just writing about it helps.

 

It doesn't even have to be long, or reasonable, or, God forbid, emotional. Sometimes it's just things like

 

_Do you think mum would let me dye my hair?_

 

-

 

_Why does everyone like peanut butter so much? The only food I've had for the last 2 days has been peanut butter sandwiches and I feel like going rabid already._

 

-

 

_Shithead, do you think dad would be very mad if I'd told him that I used his disc recorder to smash some rotter's brains in?_

 

She creates her own daily schedule like this. Wake up, brush your teeth, go on patrol, get home and write, don't talk to mum and dad, go to sleep. Day in day out, but it's not like she's got school, or anything. The outside world stopped still months after her own (her family's) did.

 

It's the end of the world.

 

//

 

_Yo, fucker, what's shit and smells like rotten flesh?_

 

_Rotters._

 

-

 

 

_I wish the internet was still working, so I could look up how to wash the smell of the bloody zombie apocalypse out of my best pairs of boots._

 

 

The entries start out innocent enough, but turn serious after the incident at the barn. Maybe that's why she rarely talks anymore, she doesn't have any good reason to. Her brother's dead, the world's ending, what's there for her to say?

 

Her mother calls her and her dad "selective mutes" and she thinks the term kind of fits.

 

//

 

_Are you a rotter, too, big bro? Did I ever accidently shoot you in the brain or something?_

 

_If yes, then apologies._

 

-

 

_Today some dude at patrol kept babbling on and on about how only people who died last year would turn into rotters. Kept looking at me funny, told him to fuck off and mind his own fucking business._

 

_-_

 

_I don't know if seeing you all rotten and evil is worse than not seeing you at all._

 

_Nope, probably would be worse._

 

-

 

_Hey, it fun up there? I know you probably wanted us to all have long, fullfilling lives, taste the rainbow and stuff, but Kier, I feel like I might need to crash at yours for a little while._

 

-

 

_Is there internet where you are? God, I hope there is. You wouldn't survive a day without internet, nerd._

 

-

 

_The guys at patrol keep looking at me like I'm fresh meat. I don't know why I don't find guys appealing. Maybe I'm just as freaky as you are, asshole. It's probably contagious._

 

_By the way, fuck you, for not being here and fighting them off like a good big protective brother._

 

_-_

 

_I looked at this girl's, Lisa, cleavage for a few good minutes today. Almost missed the warning signs for rotters, it would have cost us both our lives._

 

_Couldn't look mum and dad in the eyes after that._

 

_-_

 

_Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe. Like someone's sitting on my ribcage and squeezing tight, like I need to claw my way out if I want to stay alive ... Did you ever feel like that?_

 

_-_

 

_Hey, guess who's alive? Aunt Gaby, that's who!_

 

_She called us yesterday, said she was "in the safety zone" (I'm guessing she meant some big city by that), wanted us to come live with her. We talked a bit, I had nothing better to do, and it's pretty easy zoning out of Aunt Gaby's monologues while still getting the gist of it. You know how she is. Didn't you fall asleep during one of her speeches once? Yeah, I don't think she took that too well._

 

_She called you a coward. I hung up._

 

_-_

 

_She asked me out. Who? You bloody know who!_

 

_Like, actually asked me out. As a date-date. We're going star gazing or some shit. Not like there's anything better around here, the apocalypse kinda put a bummer to the whole dating sights we could go to._

 

_Fuck, what am I gonna wear?_

 

_-_

 

_Did Rick ever kiss you so hard you felt like you couldn't breathe, couldn't think about anything but this?_

 

Even just writing his name feels like a betrayal, like waiting for a déjà vu.

 

//

 

_You know, between staying and fighting this with all the rest of us and slitting your wrists, I think you chose the cowardly way out._

 

She rips the paper of the last one out of her notebook, grabs her lighter, burns it. Her body feels hollow with apologies, her bottom lip torn to shreds between her teeth.

 

-

 

_Do you think, that maybe I could've helped you? Even just a little? Even just as little as you needed to keep fighting?_

 

_//_

 

After, after the incident in the supermarket, after she _knows_ , she writes pages full of questions, angry accusations, hopeless optimism even. They lead her nowhere but back to the present.

 

Jem tears out every single paper except one.

 

_I love you, Kier._


End file.
